Diner
by Nixing a Rose
Summary: Kyle's hopes and dreams are lost on the night shift. image credit to paranoia doll.


**Title**:_ Diner_

**Summary**: 'Once upon a time, I was a princess.'  
'Yeah, and I used to be the Pope.'  
Kyle's hopes and dreams are lost on the night shift.

**AN:**_ HELLO FF. IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME. MY WRITING HAS NOT IMPROVED AT ALL. BUT SOMETIMES I THINK YOU LIKE ME BETTER THAT WAY. DON'T DENY IT.  
UHH IDK.  
I'M TRYING TO PACE MYSELF WHEN WRITING.  
MY DOCTOR SAYS IT'S GOOD FOR ME.  
SO READ AND REVIEW.  
I GUESS.  
YAY._

* * *

He never quite understood why he chose the graveyard hours. The pay wasn't any better, and the customers sure as hell weren't going to be friendlier. There were no kids for him to see off to school; his own days had ended an undisclosed time ago. It just felt right, when Mike handed him the papers. He'd always been one for adventure and the night life screamed of it. He wanted to be the ruff-'n-tuff who called cabs for unruly patrons and kept a watchful eye on the women that hung around outside.

So he checked the box for the hours, grinning. When Mike checked the resume over, he looked at Kyle skeptically. 'You ain't gettin' more money, sweetie.'

'I know.'

•

The old man signalled him over. Kyle had been dazing off too long; his wistfullness wouldn't pay the bills. He grabbed his notepad and pen from underneath the counter, and scooted over to the customer: glazed smile, check. 'Are you ready to order, sir?'

The man looked him over, a toothy grin creeping along his lips. 'I sure am.' He read off his decision- meat meat meat- and then smiled again. 'Ain't you a little young to be workin' the night shift, girly?'

Kyle self-consiously rubbed his cheek, the light stubble that pricked his palm steadying him. 'No sir, I am not.' He looked around, trying his best to keep his contemptous attitude in check. 'I'll bring your order right out.'

The man nodded again, tarred gums flashing as he leered.

Kyle couldn't get away fast enough.

•

It was near closing time when he showed up. He hurried in and sat at the counter, pulling his heavy jacket closer along his shoulders as he slumped in his seat. The old creep had long since left with a promising wink, leaving a generous tip that Kyle unwillingly tucked into his apron.

'Sir, we're about to close-' The man sat up and stared. He stared at Kyle long enough for the red head's eyes to water as the suffocating air pricked at them.

And then he slumped down again.

Kyle finished wiping the table he was at, and went to take the man's order.

•

'Why are you here so late?' Kyle asked, eyes flicking at both the countertop and the man seated at it. There were crumbs littered around his plate, a dolloping of ketchup drooling along the side.

'I just got off.' He tore apart his egg, still ravenous despite consuming the rest of his Rocky's All-Star Breakfast. He chewed thoughtfully before adding, 'From work.'

'I assumed,' Kyle gritted out between his clenched teeth, wringing his washcloth as he stared at his guest's mess, 'that you weren't coming tonight.'

The man grinned widely, yellow yolk pooling about his slightly crooked teeth. 'I always come, Ky. You can count on that.'

Kyle blushed and refocused his attentions back to cleaning the table, ignoring Craig's hearty laugh.

'I'm heading home. He's fed and we're closed.'

'Alright, Joe. Drive safely.'

The man nodded and patted Craig's shoulder on his way out the door.

'He's a good man,' Craig piped up, finishing his glass of orange juice with a wet smack of his lips.

'Yeah, he is,' Kyle answered, sighing as he watched Joe and his motorcycle tear out of the lot, a gleam of red in the night. He turned his head to find Craig staring pointedly at him. 'What? He's too old for me. And he has a wife. I'm no home wrecker.'

'Since when?' Craig chortled. 'Before you worked here, you'd sink your claws into any man you could find.' Kyle stuck out his tongue in response. 'Oh, the wonders that tongue could do.' Kyle laughed and tossed the rag in the sink before taking a seat next to Craig. 'Working here has changed you,' Craig commented as Kyle twirled on the stool. He slid his glass of milk to the ginger, and raised his cup of coffee in the air. 'A toast. To Kyle Broflovski and his beauty.'

Kyle snorts as he raises his milk. 'To Craig and his persistent courting.' Craig laughs, the glasses clink, they reflect on their words and suddenly they fall silent.

The finish their drinks, put them away and leave.

They get home, and try to deny their insecurities.


End file.
